


Knives and Kisses

by Mockingjay468



Series: 'Til Death Do Us Part [2]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Beta'd, Finrod Gets A Hug, Finrod Still Isn't Having A Good Time, Finrod Still Needs A Hug, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Medical Inaccuracies, Presents, Self-Hatred, The Oath Is Discussed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 07:20:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28934682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mockingjay468/pseuds/Mockingjay468
Summary: It is midnight when the thought hits him.Curufin might not wake up.Finrod should be healing.He’s not.
Relationships: Curufin | Curufinwë & Finrod Felagund | Findaráto, Curufin | Curufinwë/Finrod Felagund | Findaráto
Series: 'Til Death Do Us Part [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2122155
Comments: 7
Kudos: 22





	Knives and Kisses

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all!
> 
> So I know I said that everyone would have to wait until Fëanorian week for more of this AU but I had ideas and I needed some more set-up for my Curufin story in Fëanorian week, so have the second oneshot in a series of stories from Finrod's point of view of the entire ordeal.
> 
> [oliviacat3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oliviacat3/pseuds/oliviacat3), thank you so much for going through this and pointing out my errors!
> 
> TW - Finrod is still not in the greatest mindset so just a quick warning. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

“My king,” Curufin said, giving Finrod a deep and sarcastic bow. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit to my humble abode?”

Finrod smiled, taking a step forward to reach out to caress Curufin’s face and press a kiss to his lips. “Court was awfully dull without your cutting tongue. I came for a reprieve.”

“A reprieve? Is that all I am to you?” Curufin gasped theatrically, pressing a hand against his forehead but he was smiling and Finrod knew he had caused no true offense. “I will have you know, I have been very busy while you’ve been missing me and looking pretty.”

“You think I’m pretty?” Finrod asked with a grin.

Curufin rolled his eyes, pulling away and stepping over one of the many piles of books on his floor. “I have _eyes_ , Ingoldo.”

Finrod preened under the compliment as Curufin continued his haphazard way around the organised mess on his floor. “Did you enjoy your day?” He asked as Curufin accomplished a particularly daring balancing act over some half-built contraption.

Curufin sighed as he came to rest beside a large bookcase which held fewer books than one would expect a bookcase to hold. “I’ll have you know, you have ruined me Ingo. After Tyelpë left to go find Finduilas, I found myself growing lonely.” He spun around, a box in his hands. “Lonely, Ingo. Me. In the forge.”

“I find it hard to see how this is my fault.”

“Apparently, I quite like your company, even with all your annoying chatter.”

Leaning against the nearby post of Curufin’s bed, Finrod smiled. “Would you like me and my annoying chatter to accompany you tomorrow?”

Curufin threw him a curious look over his shoulder as he narrowly avoided toppling over a pile of paper. “Don’t you have court?”

“Court can take a break for a day,” Finrod said, waving his hand vaguely. “You’re more important than listening to prattling politicians.”

Curufin froze.

“Umm…Curvo? Are you-?”

“Marry me.”

Finrod blinked. “What?”

“What?” Curufin looked back at him in equal confusion. They stared at each other for a very long minute before Curufin began to move again. He smiled as he reached Finrod.

“I have a present for you.”

“For me?” Finrod asked, ignoring the odd moment.

“Close your eyes.”

Finrod did as requested, letting Curufin turn him around and guide him a few steps to the right. With light fingers, he settled something on his head and, at Curufin’s prompt, Finrod opened his eyes.

In the mirror, Finrod could see Curufin standing behind him expectantly, his arms crossed, before letting his eyes drift upwards.

A soft exhale escaped his lips.

Strings of delicately strung diamonds wound their way around a silver circlet of the most fragile looking leaves and flowers Finrod had even seen set in silver.

He spun around, the gems tinkling cheerily as they swung and hit together. “It’s stunning Curvo.”

“Really?” Curufin looked uncharacteristically unsure of his own creation.

Finrod pressed a kiss to his lips. “Everything you make is stunning.”

* * *

“The healers are very pleased with your recovery.”

Finrod smiles weakly at Maedhros as he informs him thus. It is nice of him to attempt to cheer him up but Finrod has heard the healers talk when they thought he was asleep and knows Maedhros’ words are a lie.

He sips on his tea – some horrible herbal concoction he has long since grown numb to – and lets the general conversation of the room wash over him as he grips the mug tightly to silence the tremors in his hands. Today, his companions are Maedhros, Celebrimbor and Finduilas.

Maedhros sighs. Celebrimbor giggles at something Finduilas says but sobers quickly with a glance towards his comatose father. Finrod takes another sip of tea.

“Galadriel sent a reply,” Maedhros begins again and Finrod can see the slight desperation to get him to speak. Finrod’s allowed to now – the healers have said his throat is well enough to do so – but words have been notoriously difficult to grip onto. “She wants to apologise for not being here but unfortunately Doriath is keeping her terribly busy.”

That’s a lie – either Maedhros’ or Galadriel’s, although Finrod is leaning towards the former. Galadriel doesn’t like to lie.

He takes another sip of tea, holding tighter to the mug as the shaking increases.

Galadriel had said in her last letter, when he had still been in Nargothrond – however long ago that was now – that she had managed to reach new heights of boredom but was staying only out of a friendship to the Queen.

Finrod has known Galadriel since she was born. He knows that she would do anything for those she loves. He must have rescinded that honour. And deservedly too.

He stares at his mug before taking another sip, and then another and another and then…

He chokes and his hand spasms and he drops scalding tea over his blanket. Maedhros jumps up and pulls both blanket and mug away with lightning reflexes. Celebrimbor and Finduilas jump before taking the sign from Maedhros to scarper.

Finrod’s choking develops into a cough and then he doubles over in pain, throwing up what little is in his stomach and a not insignificant amount of blood. Maedhros swoops over, picking him up like a small doll as a healer appears in the doorway – likely called by Celebrimbor or Finduilas, who both stand in the doorway like concerned spectres.

Finrod tucks himself further into Maedhros’ arms even as a healer attempts to get him to face her so that she can check his stitches.

He wishes he could hide. He wishes that everything is OK and that his only remaining sibling doesn’t hate him and that people aren’t just caring for him out of pity or some misplaced sense of honour and that he would wake up in his bed in Nargothrond and that Curufin would wake up beside him and make some sarcastic comment about his bed hair and that everything was alright.

He just wishes he’d never gone on that _fucking quest_.

* * *

Finrod looked up at the knock on his door.

“Come in!” He called, putting his quill down, and Curufin slipped inside, looking frankly like a bedraggled mess. “Oh, Curvo.”

Finrod stood up and walked around his desk to cup Curufin’s tear-stained face in his hands. Curufin leant into the touch, closing his eyes and taking in a shaky breath.

“Celebrimbor hates me,” He whispered after a moment.

“I’m sure he doesn’t.”

“He _said_ so.”

“Children say things they don’t mean.”

“He’s not…he’s not a child anymore.” Curufin looked up, his face etched in despair.

Finrod pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Sleep with me tonight. I’m sure that, come morning, ‘Brimbor will have re-evaluated.”

Curufin nodded and let Finrod lead him over to the bed. Silently, he undid his clothes and folded them over the back of a chair, slipping under the covers. He curled up close to Finrod, leaning his forehead against his.

Finrod brushed a stray hair behind his ear. “I love you. You know that, right?”

“Yes.” Curufin gave him a weak smile before closing his eyes and curling up closer. “I love you too.”

* * *

It is midnight when the thought hits him.

Curufin might not wake up.

Finrod’s eyes snap open.

 _Curufin might not wake up_.

The thought alone is enough to raise his heart rate and make it difficult to keep air in his lungs.

Curufin might…Curufin might not wake up.

He turns over. Curufin lies in the other bed, his hair braided over one shoulder and his hands folded over his stomach but the steady rise and fall of his chest isn’t enough.

Finrod pushes himself to a sit with some difficulty and drags his legs over the edge of the bed. He pauses there a moment before pulling himself to his feet with the help of the headboard of his bed.

His legs give out almost immediately.

He resorts to shuffling across the floor on his hands and knees. He almost gives in as he reaches the other side of the gap between beds but he takes in a deep breath and hauls himself upright, collapsing onto the sheets.

Breathing heavily, he turns over to face Curufin. A lock of hair has escaped his loose braid and Finrod pushes it back with a shaking hand.

“I love you,” He whispers, his voice hoarse with disuse. His throat burns with the effort it takes to speak but he keeps going, a plan half forming in his mind that if he says the right thing, then maybe, maybe Curufin might wake up. “I love you Curvo and I want…” He coughs. “…I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” His voice hitches and tears begin to dribble down his face, unwanted emotion appearing after months of apathy. “Please wake up. _Please_ -” He cuts off as a sob threatens to escape.

For a long moment, he lies there, trying to keep back the sudden tide of emotion and watching…waiting… _hoping_ for some reaction.

But Curufin continues to lie there in peaceful unconsciousness.

Finrod buries his face into the pillow and cries.

* * *

The door of Finrod’s room banged open and Curufin came marching in.

“You’re insane,” He declared with no preamble. “Your entire _plan_ is insane. Don’t you think if the Silmarils could be recovered that easily, we would have them back already?”

“I made an oath.” Finrod kept his face carefully passive as he continued to pack.

“So did I.” Curufin comes around the bed so he is facing Finrod directly. “You will drop everything for this…this _Man_ you’ve never met but not once have you ever offered help in my quest.”

“You never asked!”

“Of course I never asked! I wasn’t going to…to…” He growled as he couldn’t get out the words he wanted to say. “I’m coming with you.”

“No.”

“No?” Curufin asked incredulously, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. “Since when did you control what I did?”

Finrod finally looked Curufin in the eyes. “It’s not your quest.”

“I disagree. It’s more my quest than this mortal’s. He has no claim on the Silmarils.”

“No,” Finrod said again, placing his hands on his shoulders in a placating manner. “I couldn’t see you hurt.” _Or dead_ , went unsaid between them.

Curufin swallowed, pulling out of his hold. “And you think I could?”

They kept each other’s gaze for a long time. Curufin turned away first. “I’m coming with you. That’s final.”

* * *

“Ingo?”

Finrod snaps his eyes open. Curufin’s look back at him, the grey turned silver in the moonlight pouring in through the window. For an instance, Finrod looks back, his mind completely blank.

And then the relief falls on him all at once and he begins to cry again. He wraps his arms around his beloved, hides his face in Curufin’s chest and whispers his name over and over in a hoarse, broken litany.

Curufin begins to shakily pet his hair and there is a moment where Finrod can smell blood and smoke, hear screams and Sauron’s laugh.

But then he feels Curufin in his arms, feels Curufin’s mind against his, and he knows he’s safe.

They are both safe.


End file.
